PhoenixMire
ᛚᚨᚦᚢ:ᚹᛁᛞᚢᛉ:ᛖᚱᚦᛟ
Patchwork pointed out some flyers, and Frey's lips curved into a smile. What a surprise! He hadn't expected this ramshackle village to have any jobs like this. There weren't very many flyers, but he was excited to start working and get some money anyway. He was about to stroll over to them - when the small girl tugged on his sleeve and told him she was going to change.
Frey's gaze traveled to the washroom. "Sure. Be careful," he said as she set off. He decided to keep an eye on that room in case anything less than desirable happened. He didn't want anyone to discover that he was in the company of an undead child.
Occasionally casting glances toward the washroom, he investigated the flyers tacked to a board behind the bar. The man standing at the bar only shot him a cursory look before returning to his own business. Frey scanned the papers; there weren't many of them, and some of the jobs sounded boring and unprofitable, such as taking watch over an individual's house for the night or even finding a lost pet cat. Frey quietly scoffed. What kind of jobs were those?
But then something caught his attention - the name Mirran on one of the flyers. Leaning forward, he read it more closely.
Frey cocked a brow. The whole thing gave him a somewhat uncomfortable vibe. But sixty gold for this job? How could he pass that up? He quickly looked around the tavern, finding exactly what the flyer had described - an older human man, tall, his hair white with age. He was seated at a table surrounded by friends, laughing and eating the tavern's gross-looking food.
With his mind filled with thoughts of gold, Frey tore down the piece of parchment and made his way over to the man with a friendly smile. "Good morning, sir!" he declared cheerily, showing the man the piece of paper. "I'd like to ask you about this job..."
The man looked up from his plate of food, and the conversation he'd been having with his friends faded into silence. The older man nodded curtly. "About time someone wanted to pick up that job. Sit down."
Frey cast a glance back toward the washroom where Patchwork had vanished into, then took a seat at the table.
Frey's gaze traveled to the washroom. "Sure. Be careful," he said as she set off. He decided to keep an eye on that room in case anything less than desirable happened. He didn't want anyone to discover that he was in the company of an undead child.
Occasionally casting glances toward the washroom, he investigated the flyers tacked to a board behind the bar. The man standing at the bar only shot him a cursory look before returning to his own business. Frey scanned the papers; there weren't many of them, and some of the jobs sounded boring and unprofitable, such as taking watch over an individual's house for the night or even finding a lost pet cat. Frey quietly scoffed. What kind of jobs were those?
But then something caught his attention - the name Mirran on one of the flyers. Leaning forward, he read it more closely.
Looking for someone to deliver something to Mirran.
Will offer a payment of 30 gold pieces.
When the item arrives safely to Mirran, the person receiving the package will pay an additional 30 gold.
I WILL know if the package is not delivered safely.
Please look for a tall human man with white hair.
Will offer a payment of 30 gold pieces.
When the item arrives safely to Mirran, the person receiving the package will pay an additional 30 gold.
I WILL know if the package is not delivered safely.
Please look for a tall human man with white hair.
Frey cocked a brow. The whole thing gave him a somewhat uncomfortable vibe. But sixty gold for this job? How could he pass that up? He quickly looked around the tavern, finding exactly what the flyer had described - an older human man, tall, his hair white with age. He was seated at a table surrounded by friends, laughing and eating the tavern's gross-looking food.
With his mind filled with thoughts of gold, Frey tore down the piece of parchment and made his way over to the man with a friendly smile. "Good morning, sir!" he declared cheerily, showing the man the piece of paper. "I'd like to ask you about this job..."
The man looked up from his plate of food, and the conversation he'd been having with his friends faded into silence. The older man nodded curtly. "About time someone wanted to pick up that job. Sit down."
Frey cast a glance back toward the washroom where Patchwork had vanished into, then took a seat at the table.